


Buddy's Past

by Lucy410



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004), due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29535972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy410/pseuds/Lucy410
Summary: Buddy is about to find out the truth about his past.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Due South Archive





	Buddy's Past

**Author's Note:**

> Brief mention of a character's death.

Buddy took a sip from the glass of water in his hand and stared out into the night. He was now into his second week of sleepless nights. Sleepless, because if he slept he dreamed and his dreams were... well, let's say they were extraordinarily vivid. 

The first one hadn't been too unusual. He had been standing in the middle of a snowy landscape, dressed in a bright red RCMP uniform and with a large husky by his side. Before he had joined the force Buddy had toyed with the idea of joining the Mounted police, but in the end he had decided he didn't want to leave Wilby and that had been that. 

Maybe there was still a part of him that hankered after that dream. 

And that would have been fine, if that had been the worst of them he wouldn't have minded. But it wasn't. 

After the first couple of nights other dreams had started to play in his mind. Jumbled images a lot of the time. He saw himself in a big city, in an austere apartment, lying in a hospital bed. 

Then he'd started to dream about Duck. And those dreams, more vivid and real than anything else, were why he was standing by the kitchen window at 3am. 

He wondered maybe if the cause was the amount of time he'd spent thinking about Duck since Dan Jarvis had left town. The pair had seemed happy and he wasn't really sure what had happened to make Dan leave. 

Buddy shifted his feet, he needed a cigarette. The dream that had woken him from his doze had been shockingly explicit and the weirdest thing had been his own feelings towards it, as though he were yearning for something lost. And that was stupid because he was married and Duck was just a friend. 

Unwilling to risk sleep again Buddy got dressed and went to work. 

Four long hours later Buddy was somewhat surprised when a troupe of people walked into the police station and pulled him to one side.

_____

"None of this makes any sense." The dark-haired man regarded the people around him calmly. Then he laughed and reached into a pocket for his cigarettes. "I've spent my whole life in Wilby." 

He looked around again, all those unfamiliar faces, but there, there was someone he recognised. "Is this some sort of practical joke, because your timing sucks. Did you organise this, Duck? I thought we were friends." 

"We are friends, Fraser." 

Duck was making his way through the crowd with a sad smile on his face. 

"But my name's not Duck. It's Ray, Ray Kowalski. I'm a detective with the Chicago Police Department, and you're Constable Benton Fraser, of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

The man laughed. "For a practical joke it's been well thought out." He took a drag on his cigarette. "Is Carol responsible for this, where is she anyway?" 

"Fraser." The man he knew as Duck was standing opposite him, a sad smile on his face. "We're telling you the truth." 

The man frowned. "This isn't funny anymore, Duck or Ray, or whatever your name is. I need to get back to work." 

"Fraser---" 

"That's not my name. I'm Buddy French, and I don't have time for this." 

"Okay." Ray nodded. "Can you do one last thing for me, just look at a photograph, please." 

/Anything to get this ordeal over with./ "And then I can leave?" 

"Yep." Ray dug a hand into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled photograph, if anything the sad smile on his face intensified and he passed it over to the other man. 

The picture was of him, but no, it couldn't be him, just someone who looked a lot like him, crouched next to a man who looked a lot like Duck, and between them, also grinning for the camera, was a large husky-type dog. At the back of Buddy's mind a memory stirred, a dream half-remembered. Confusion, fear, a noise like a thousand fireworks going off all at once and then pain. Buddy pressed a hand to his eyes.

"Who's this?" 

Ray drew in a breath. "That's Diefenbaker. He 's..." Ray hesitated. "Was your wolf." 

"Wolf?" 

Ray grinned. 

"I had a wolf, in Chicago?" 

Ray nodded. 

"He's dead?" 

Ray stuck his hands in his pockets. "He died protecting you, from... well, from the reason you're here. Do you remember him?" 

Buddy frowned. "I feel like I should. Maybe." Then he shook his head and passed back the photograph. 

"C'mon, let's take a walk." 

Buddy let the man he'd thought was his friend precede him out of the police station, and they walked together, down the grassy slope, stopping under the spreading branches of a willow tree. 

"What about all my memories? I remember growing up here, going to school, you." 

Ray shrugged. "False memories to help protect you." The cop folded his arms across his chest. "You almost died and then when we realised you'd lost your memory it seemed the perfect opportunity." 

"For what?" Buddy stared at Ray. 

"We knew Anzani would come after you again, so we pretended you had died, gave you a new background and some new memories and brought you here, to keep you safe." 

"What about you?" 

"A friendly face, someone to keep an eye on you, help you cope if your memory came back." 

"So how long have I been here?" 

"Nine years." Ray had turned away and was looking back towards the building they had come from. 

"Were we friends?" Buddy wanted to make Ray look at him again, if the man was lying he'd be able to see it. "That photograph you showed me, you were in it, were we friends?" 

For a long time Ray said nothing. When the man did reply Buddy could hear the wistful edge to the words. 

"Yes, we were friends." Ray looked at him and there was moisture collecting in the man's eyes. He swiped it away with his hand. 

Silence fell, it stretched out and then fell away as Ray spoke again. "Anzani's dead now, his crime empire in tatters. Time to go home." 

"This is my home." Buddy gestured at the landscape around them. "It's the only place I know. The only place I can remember, anyway." 

"And you can stay, if that's what you want." 

"But you won't?" 

"I've been here a long time, Fraser, but it's time to go back to the real world, back to Chicago, back to whatever I can salvage from my old life." 

Buddy knew he wasn't imagining the regret in the other man's voice, or the sorrow. Something at the back of his head, something that was half hidden, flared briefly into life. Buddy took a step closer to Ray. 

"You said we were friends," his voice was low and insistent, and for a moment it didn't sound like his voice at all. "Is that all it was?" Those dreams, what if they weren't just dreams?

Hope flared in Ray's eyes, just for a second. "We were in a relationship." 

"A sexual relationship?" Buddy wasn't sure if his voice sounded shocked or disgusted. 

Ray nodded. "Maybe now you'll understand why I gave up nine years of my life for you. I hoped that perhaps my being here would jog your memory." 

"But I'm married." Buddy gestured with his hands. "I'm..." 

"I won't say it wasn't hard, Fraser, but it needed to be done." There was a pause. "After I while I lost hope and then Dan he... he needed somebody. But eventually I told him the truth."

He and Ray were closer now, perhaps standing closer than they'd ever done before, at least that he could remember. The man looked like Duck, he sounded like Duck too, but he wasn't Duck. And he wasn't Buddy? He could feel his head spinning with the weight of it all. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." And the man really did look sorry, the easy smile that Buddy was so used to seeing seemed long gone. "I was sure your memory would come back." 

There was a tear, glistening on Ray's cheek, the man seemed unaware of it, and Buddy rubbed his thumb across his face to capture it. 

Ray was looking at him with wide startled eyes and Buddy could feel the heat rising in his face. 

"Ray." It was the first time he had used the name, and then Buddy found himself closing the tiny gap between them so that he could press his lips against Ray's. 

At first the lips beneath his felt cold, but then Ray sighed and parted his lips, returning the kiss with all the desperation built up over nine years of near abstinence. 

If felt wrong, then it felt weird, then it felt wonderful and Buddy pressed forward with his full weight, pressing Ray back against the tree trunk, giving in to the innermost part of himself that said this was right, this was how it was supposed to be. The world faded away, everything he knew, everything he thought he knew, burned away under the feel of Ray's lips. 

The men were lost in each other, caught in their own world, a world that Ray had wept for on more than one occasion, and that Buddy would never have dreamt of. 

Eventually they broke apart, both panting, both red faced. 

Ray was leaning heavily against the tree, his eyes wide with joy and the man opposite him... 

The man opposite him reached out and gently traced the contours of Ray's face with one finger. 

"Ray." 

"Fraser?" And then Ray was crying and pulling Fraser into an embrace. "You remember?" 

"True love's kiss." Fraser smiled, and in that smile was all his love for Ray and all the regret he felt for the time they had missed. 

And the assembled townsfolk of Wilby broke into a spontaneous round of applause.


End file.
